The Arrow's Blade
by Le Queen of Morons
Summary: The sequal to Hollow Hunters. What will our heros find in their mission overseas to retreive their wayward friend? Will Hueco Mundo get to her before they do? Main chars so far: Uryu, Ryuken, Renji, Shuunsui, OCs
1. Chapter 1

Darkness was complete – so dense it made the air heavy and muffled his senses. If he were to stand still, he was sure he would suffocate from the sheer weight of the air.

So Uryu Ishida ran. Desperately he ran. Fearfully he ran.

The sounds of his own panicked footfalls and harsh breath filled his ears, even as his eyes focused upon the featureless path before him. The floor and the base of the grey walls were perfectly clear, but every time the brilliant blue of his eyes rose, an overpowering fog overcame his vision. He couldn't breath.

He was rendered blind and winded until he again lowered his gaze to the path before him.

What was he running from?

He didn't know for certain – only that it was horrible and closing in quickly behind him.

This undefined terror was something he had no prayer of even fighting, although he couldn't see it.

He couldn't hear it.

He could only _feel_ it.

The sensation was as acute and intense as what a rabbit must feel when it knows a hawk's talons are about to close in upon its throat and rip its life away.

So, he sprinted through the horror and confusion.

On and on. Did this hallway have no end?

His heart hammered against his ribcage, while sweat streaked down his temples and cheeks. Lungs worked like bellows to keep up with the adrenaline saturating his blood.

The unseen threat grew closer and closer.

The terrified Quincy could almost feel its rank breath on the back of his neck.

Heat pooled deep within his solar plexus, and -

Midnight eyes flew open.

His chest rose and fell in a desperate attempt to catch his frenzied breath. Uryu's face glistened with the persperation from the nightmare, and cool air made him shiver when it touched upon the exposed length of his neck and chest peeking from the "v" formed by his partly unbuttoned pajama top. Ebon hair stuck to his temples and cheeks.

The distressed archer stared up at the blurry ceiling of his room, foggy mind attempting to make sense of what it was seeing.

Slowly, he sat up and drew a lungful of air before rubbing trembling hands over his wet face.

He wanted a shower, a fresh change of clothing, and time to run backwards by about three months.

The younger Ishida had struggled with the initial loneliness resulting in her absence. Her burning kiss had etched itself into his core with a ferocious longing so intense it frightened him. Pulling himself from the memories was torture.

He held his head in his hands and again squeezed his eyes shut.

After a while, his fathers' training had helped him overcome the initial grief and anger. A month ago, he was finally able to concentrate on his school-work again. He had thought maybe, just _maybe_ things could be normal again.

Then the nightmares had started, and the tug he had last felt all those months ago was back again.

"What the hell," he mumbled before throwing his blanket back and swinging his legs over the edge of his bed. Smoothly, a graceful hand slid his glasses onto the bridge of his nose and his dimly lit room came into focus.

The gentle breeze on his face was a relief.

Wait, breeze? He hadn't left a window open. The nights were getting too cool for that.

Unbidden, he glanced at the formerly closed window and tensed instinctively at seeing the man perched there. The fingers of his bow-hand spread and long familiar blue energy gathered in his palm. Upon sensing the repressed reiatsu, however, he relaxed marginally. The partially formed weapon flickered out of existence.

"You do realize that people will talk if they saw you creeping through my bedroom window at, " he glanced at the glowing green letters of his alarm clock, "3 in the morning, don't you?"

A Cheshire grin lit upon the intruder's shadowed face. "Let them talk, I say. They probably have nothing better to do, anyway."

A sigh escaped the young man, just before the bedroom door opened to reveal a glaring Ryuken – silver hair as sleep tousled as his son's, sleekly muscled chest bare, and pale blue sweat pants secured around the slender waist by a deep blue cord. The disheveled appearance did nothing to take the hard steel from his eyes when they landed on the man lounging in his son's open window. "Uryu. What's that shinigami doing here?"

"I have no idea," the younger Ishida turned his eyes to Kisuke, his glare asking the same question of the intruder.

"That's ex-shinigami, thank you," Kisuke shot Ryuken a charming smile. "Now I'm just a humble shopkeeper." He pointed out and easily ignored the dry looks he got. "And I," out came the fan, "am delivering a bit of news."

"…which is?" Uryu prompted, crossing his arms over his chest.

That wicked grin only sharpened. "The Soul Society is sending a Captain and Lieutenant to retrieve a certain someone from across the pond."

"So?" Uryu's father glared, the light from the hallway still framing him from the doorway he still stood within.

"Well," the deceptive shopkeeper drew the word out. "She happens to have a bit of Quincy in her, and quite a connection to your son." Flutter, flutter went the fan.

Uryu lost his breath for a moment, before his eyes widened, and he whispered, "Meg?"

Urahara nodded, then glanced up as Ryuken cleared his throat.

"Thank you, Mr. Urahara." The silvered man ran from fire to ice with unnerving ease. "You may leave, now."

"What?" Uryu spun to face his father, "I'm going."

"Of course you are," his father responded coldly, "but not with the shinigami. This is a Quincy matter."

Kisuke smiled handsomely, and snapped his fan shut. "Excellent! A father-son trip, how sweet." He shifted to his feet. "I'll have my contact meet you at the airport, then." As abruptly as he had appeared, he was gone.

A pair of airline tickets left on the sill and the gentle breeze drifting through the open window where the only two indicators of his ever being there.

* * *

**The promised sequal to Hollow Hunters begins. To be honest, I don't think I'd mind Kisuke showing up in my window in the middle of the night. ;) **

**Please, feel free to let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

Divine rage roared upon the very nothingness of the New Mexico desert. Shockwaves rolled out throughout the sands, like ripples through water. Flames, angry orange and red, whipped furiously into the sleeping sky. Noxious smoke blossomed from its mothering blaze and blocked the stars from sight. Alarms screamed their panic into the formerly still night.

A lone woman watched the flickering inferno from the distance of a mile. At first glance, she was very unassuming.

Just a youth, really.

Dark hair only about an inch long, if that, concealed by the grey hood of the sweatshirt she bore. The oversized fabric only served to further emphasize her small frame. Those who had known her mere months ago would surely notice how tiny she'd truly become. Worn, charcoal cargo pants graced her lower body, and a pair of old, sturdy sneakers protected her feet. A single, graceful hand held the loop upon the top of the back-pack leaning against her right hip.

Silently, she crouched upon a bit of earth, elevated by 10 feet above the surrounding sand.

Upon closer examination, however, inhuman eyes as dark as the choked sky above tracked the survivors' silhouettes outlined against the fire as they scurried this way and that in their allotted disaster assignments. The neon of green pupils flashed briefly as she read the energy patterns of the surrounding area.

No one knew she was there. All attention was upon her carefully thought out and executed handiwork.

A satisfied grin lit upon her face as she stood from her perch and slung the bag she carefully packed in secret over an eternally aching shoulder. Breifly, her fangs glinted in the angry flickering light so far away.

Swiftly cooling arid air caressed her cheeks and ruffled her loose clothing. It felt wonderful.

It felt like freedom.

They thought they'd broken her when they took her wings. They thought they'd tamed her with the harsh experiments and brutal trainings. That was fine with her.

In fact, she'd encouraged the deceit by maintaining utter silence from the surgery itself on. The closest she'd come to speaking was during Kisuke's brief visit. Meg rarely met the eyes of her tormentors, and when she did, she was careful to keep her gaze dull, her expression blank. Just like a good little weapon – no emotion – no intellect – no humanity.

The captive had endured the misery and let them think what they wanted to. While they languished in their false success, she'd squirreled away bits and pieces of what she needed for her escape.

A little explosive from this shipment – the living blade already made sure of how much overhead was already expected and was careful to keep well under that figure – a little cleaner from that one. She mapped the facility and memorized its layout as well as the shift changes, as well as the personnel.

It really wasn't as hard to do as the girl had thought at first, once she'd figured out how to manipulate the warped energy of the place to camouflage her movements. There were times she thought she was going to be caught, but the guards' attentions had always simply slipped over her as she slid past them. They had no reason to suspect the little experiment of anything beyond that which was ordered, after all.

This was not the stupid blade her superiors thought they had. Over the years of her life within bases much like this one, she learned the finer, more subtle art of undetected observation. She learned the peoples' strengths and weaknesses, both individually and as a group, and silently figured out just how to make them work to her eventual advantage. Survival was essential.

She knew it was time to proceed when she had overheard a few of the soldiers complaining about how the computer system had suddenly crashed, and it seemed as if no one knew what exactly was wrong. Data could not be accessed; entire sections of the complex had been blacked out. Irritating, indecipherable messages where apparently the only things which showed up upon the computer screens. They had been hacked, and the canny young woman had a feeling she knew just who was behind it.

From there, she leapt into action.

There were a key few who had to die, but she was careful not to block emergency routes, and to place the detonations themselves in locations furthest from heavily populated areas.

Oddly enough, those locations just happened to be the very same as where she had slit the throat of the scientist responsible for the cruelest of experiments – where she had pierced the brain stem of the general responsible for her training – where she had crushed the spine of the visiting woman at the head of the entire operation.

Surprisingly enough, the whole thing went off without a hitch, and comforting relief filled her chest at the sight of just how many survivors where outlined against the fire as they dashed to and fro.

Through it all, recollection of sapphire eyes drove her. His remembered scent – clean and cool – comforted her. The softness of his ebon hair lingered within her fingers' memory. The startling heat of his mouth upon hers added fire to her already blazing intent. There were times she could almost feel the bond with the young archer. It was only a weak pull, most often upon first waking, but it was still enough to continue to spur her on.

She hoped he was ok. Guilt still tugged at her over how she'd left the Quincy. The last thing she'd wanted was to hurt him, but she'd seen no other way out without one or more of her new friends being claimed by those who had created her body.

Sirens wailed, attended by the blue and red flash of lights piercing the formerly peaceful desert roads. Dust rose in protest to the emergency vehicles rushing to the sudden inferno.

Distant scent, sound and light carried upon the wind snapped her free of her reverie.

Confident that her tracks were covered well enough, she turned and strode to the edge of the small plateau she'd stationed herself on. Carefully, she slid to the bottom of the rise – pebbles and dirt shifting under her feet as she went.

She secured the other strap of her pack over her free shoulder and blinked when something pink caught her eye. There, peeking out from behind a dried out bush, was a leg of a bright pink stuffed bunny. After a brief pause, she stepped closer, then knelt and extended a hand to pick the plush up.

It was exactly like the cutesy rabbits Rukia was so fond of. Upon its grinning head sat a miniature version of Kisuke's favored bucket hat. Blinking, she began to straighten, and then fell flat on her butt with a startled yelp when the doll burst into a shower of sparkling confetti in her hand.

Meg stared as the glittering bits of ethereal energy settled on the ground in a ridiculous depiction of Kisuke's grinning face sporting a feathered Mardi Gras mask. Outlining the absurd caricature was the state of Louisiana. After several moments, the sign glimmered back into nothingness.

Slowly, she pulled herself to her feet and brushed sand from the seat of her pants. Evidently, she was to rendezvous with his group in New Orleans. Quietly, she chuckled and turned east.

Kisuke had remembered her woefully underdeveloped reading skills, but took that knowledge a couple dozen steps further than anyone else would have.

The young escapee really missed that demented shopkeeper.

Determination settled ever more firmly within her heart as she started on her way.

She _would_ see him again - him, Ukitake, Ichigo, Renji, and most importantly…Uryu.

* * *

**I am gonna have _so_ much fun with Kisuke's messages. XD Next chapter, we'll see who she's meeting up with. Feedback is always appreciated!**


	3. Chapter 3

Clear across the continent, a disgustingly cheerful ring tone shattered the pocket of serenity within a tiny apartment nestled in the heart of Brooklyn.

It felt like she had _just_ fallen asleep. For the first time in months, she had been able to finally collapse into a warm, soft bed and lapse into dreams. It had been _so_ nice to drift softly into unconsciousness.

Most nights, when she wasn't on the road, she fell asleep while working on a project on her trusty laptop, or on a couch with a television to ward off nightmares.

That day, however, the vigorous workout she'd enjoyed at the old family dojo she was helping to teach at that week had left her with a nice buzz of endorphins. The meal she'd had with one of the few adopted cousins who looked past strict tradition enough to accept her that evening had helped her forget nagging loneliness for a few hours. Finally, the last of the translations she had been commissioned to do had been sent off to her customers, which had left her with a warm sense of accomplishment to finish the evening off with.

She'd felt more content than she had since before returning to this particular reality just over a decade ago. For once, the eternal wanderer felt as if she could just lie down like a normal person and allow sleep to overcome her without fear of beasts – physical or otherwise – breaking in on her peace.

No such luck.

Of _course_ the phone would interrupt a particularly sweet dream scented with cherry blossoms and touched by lush green grasses swaying in time to deep, rich laughter.

Blearily, she wondered why she kept the damn thing at her bedside when she slept. Then she wondered why she'd chosen _that_ obscenely happy ring.

A long white scar traced a line from elbow to fingertips of the naked arm emerging from the tangle of dark blankets. Tiny ruby roses rode the thorned vine tattooed along a much older seam warped with age and the limb's growth upon the upper arm.

She fumbled for the black cell. Fingertips missed the offending device twice, three times, before they finally clutched the thing, flipped it open and brought it to the ear not pressed into the blissfully soft pillow.

"If this isn't a life or death situation," her groggy growl rumbled into the mouthpiece like a thing risen from hell, "I'm finding you in the morning and shoving your damn phone _so _far up your a-"

The sleepy threat was interrupted by an entirely too merry voice - a familiar voice she hadn't heard since her sensei's funeral in Karakura five years ago. The man spoke his native tongue – Japanese. The tired woman still held very real doubts about that being the _only_ language he was fluent in. "Why, Diana-chan! If you're going to threaten someone, it usually works better if you use words they understand."

She paused and rolled over onto her back. Bright green eyes opened at the voice and stared at the dim ceiling above her. Fiery curls blanketed the pillow cradling her head, and her unscarred hand passed briefly over her face before slipping to the mattress beneath her. "Kisuke?" Suddenly awake, she levered herself up on an elbow, shapely lips turning down in a concerned frown. The blanket fell to her lap, revealing a thin white tank top fitted closely to the toned body beneath. One of the thin straps drooped over her right shoulder. "Hi. Is everything alright?"

"Oh, come now. Do you honestly think the only reason I'd call my favorite reality-skipper is if something's wrong?" Di was reasonably certain he would be fluttering that fan of his at this point, where they face to face.

She snorted indelicately, and flipped tangle of hair which fallen into her face back to expose yet another pale line running down the left side of her neck and down her chest, only to disappear under the soft fabric there. "You've yet to call me for anything else, you know." The amused laugh on the other end brought a grin to her tired face. "So, what's up, then? You do realize it's the middle of the night here."

"Are you ready for your guests?" The shopkeeper never was one for giving straight answers.

Brilliant eyes blinked as she tried to follow the sudden bend in conversation. "My wha-?" She cut herself off with a surprised cry when blinding white light filled the small, borrowed room.

The hand not holding her phone lowered from its hasty protection over her eyes. Dimly aware of Urahara's exasperating chuckle over the line, her gaze slowly focused on the shadowy outlines of two men now standing bewilderedly at the foot of the bed she sat in. In English, she murmured, "The hell?"

It was only when eyes readjusted finally to the sudden gloom of the room, that she recognized the spiked hair of one of the outlines and the deceptively easy stance of the other. "…Renji? Shunsui? What're y-"

"Oh, so I take it they arrived?" Kisuke's voice interrupted yet again.

"Yeah." Irritated, but too thrown off balance to do more than close her eyes and breath a long, harsh sigh, she attempted another question. "Kisuke, just what's going o-"

"Do you have a pen and paper?" the increasingly infuriating tone from across the world cut in once more.

"Yeah, hang on." She shot her two guests a confused look as she turned on the light by the bed. All three winced at the sudden luminescence, but she still grabbed the pen and notebook gathering dust on the surface of nightstand. Resigned, she spoke again. "Got it. What, will there be a quiz later?"

"Of course! Lucky for you, though, it'll be open book." He then proceeded to give a time and gate number for an incoming flight from Tokyo. "Think you'll make it to meet the boys?"

"'The boys'? What, are you trying to provide me with a harem or something?" A smirk suddenly leapt to her face at Kyoraku's throaty chuckle. The small smile only sharpened into a wicked grin at the tattooed reaper's sudden blush.

Making poor Renji go pink was just as much fun as she remembered it being.

A corner of her mind noted just how well modern clothing fit the two men. Abarai wore a denim jacket over a tie-dye t-shirt and faded blue jeans, a deep blue bandana was tied over his brow. Shunsui still wore his long chestnut hair back in a low tail with a lock escaping in front to offer even more of a rakish impression to his general appearance. His deep blue jeans were relaxed enough to offer easy movement, and the collar of his forest green shirt was left open just enough to hint at the perfect physique underneath the silken cloth.

"Somehow, I doubt those two would go along with it particularly well. Though, who knows? Ryuken might surprise us." The shopkeeper rambled on good naturedly, "Uryu's a little too fixated on a certain someone you'll hopefully be meeting soon to even think about it. You're in for a hell of a trip, my dear."

The time he gave suddenly registered in her un-caffeinated mind which prompted her to glance at the clock. Di swore under her breath. They were due to land in just over an hour, and even this late at night, New York City traffic was not something to take lightly.

"Kisuke," she growled into the phone and tossed her sheets back. Forgetting about the two silent men in her room, she swung her shapely legs over the edge of her bed. Below the waist, she only wore a pair of black bikini-style underpants. Had she known about her guests when she was readying herself for bed the evening previous, she would have at least thrown on a pair of shorts. "I am kicking your ass the next time I see you."

The left thigh was marked by what looked like a long, serpentine tail made up of twining tribal cords which wrapped around her hip and tapered to an end at the inside of the knee. A band of black lightening-esque markings circled the right ankle, and flanking a delicate sakura blossom just above the protruding bone over the hollow of her heel.

Renji cleared his throat, and politely looked away. Shunsui, however, did not - at least not until a sharp elbow jabbed itself into his ribs.

Her threat earned light laugh, followed by a slightly darker tone. "I look forward to it, little Bara."

She cringed at the nickname. The woman knew she never should have shared her middle name with him.

When the phone went dead she ran a hand through her tousled hair, and pulled a pair of jeans on from where they were draped over the foot of the bed. As she zipped the fly and latched the button, she looked up at her two thus far silent guests.

"Ok, guys. Who's up for seeing the horrors of JFK?" She smirked tiredly at the two, and padded over to them.

Shunsui enfolded her in a fragrant embrace and dropped a gentle kiss on the crown of her head while her cheek was pressed briefly to his chest. "I believe Renji has already volunteered for that little adventure."

Di turned to her former guardian to twine her arms around his muscular shoulders in a warm hug. "Boy are _you_ ever in for a treat, Abarai."

* * *

**Meet Diana! She's a lot of fun, in my humble opinion. I'm still working on the story she was originally introduced in, Almost Home. Currently, I'm revamping the chapters already up, since that particular story wasn't turning out the way I'd wanted. It's not really required reading at all, since the events don't really hold much sway over what happens in this one, but it does explain the why behind her existing relationships with some of the characters.**

**Oh, an explenation on the "little bara" thing. I read that "bara" is Japanese for rose, but because it's so close to "baka", which means "fool", and the fact that roses have thorns, it's not a good choice for a woman's name. Kisuke's playing on the whole "fool" aspect of it...just because that's how he strikes me as rolling with Di. ;)  
**

**Up next, Renji learns the joys of traffic and airports! Poor boy.  
**


	4. Chapter 4

Renji had heard the phrase "the town that never sleeps" before leaving Karakura from Urahara, but he had simply dismissed it as just another one of the shopkeeper's flaky sayings. He had _no_ idea just how accurate it was.

The shinigami was utterly convinced that no one _could_ sleep even if they wanted to, what with the cacophony of irritating car horns, sirens and yells from drivers and pedestrians alike. Slowly, he chanced a glance at the woman behind the wheel of the vehicle he now found himself in.

She was rubbing her right temple with fore- and middle-fingers. There was a crease between her brows, indicating what had to be one hell of a headache. Those bright eyes stared through the windshield for the most part, but darted left and right on occasion. The edgy expression tightening her face vaguely reminded him of the one he remembered her wearing in battle - hyper aware, calm but edged with tightly coiled energy just below the surface.

The slightly bruised looking circles exaggerated by streetlights they passed under and the slightly pallid cast to her skin told him of long standing exhaustion. While a decade was usually less than an eye-blink for the shinigami, he had been reminded acutely of just how much can happen in a relatively short period time over the past few years. He wondered what had happened to her. Worry roiled deeply within his gut.

Di must have felt his eyes on her, since he found himself fixated by the emerald of her own. "You ok?" Her easy smile soothed a little of the pressure away from his shoulders.

"Yeah. What about you?" He returned the grin and relaxed back into the cushioned seat. One large hand tugged at the safety belt which kept pressing annoyingly into the side of his neck.

"Oh, I'm…sonova!" Her attention was abruptly returned to the road, when she swerved slightly to miss the van careening their way. As the boxy vehicle barreled past, she breathed out a harshly. The rough voice, when again employed, was tinged with weariness. "…been better, to be honest."

He missed that smile as soon as it was gone.

By the time they finally pulled onto the exit into the airport grounds, however, he missed being stationary a whole lot more than the smile.

_Why_ had he volunteered to go on this nightmare ride again?

Oh, yeah. Uryu was expecting him.

The tattooed man's formidable grip tightened on what Diana had so aptly dubbed the 'oh shit bar' mounted over the window as a pickup came within inches of broad siding them in the massive parking ramp.

That archer _owed_ him.

He watched the muscle in Di's jaw clench as she hit the breaks in order to avoid running into a small red sports car pulling directly into their path as they drove up another level, despite their obvious right of way.

That archer owed him _big time_.

At last – at _last_ – a spot opened for them, and she pulled smoothly into it.

With a groan, Diana turned off the ignition and rested her brow against the worn steering wheel. Once her eyes again opened, her head turned so a temple touched the grip and an apologetic grin was cast his way. "I promise, Renji, it's not always such a thrill ride driving with me."

Dear gods, he hoped she was right.

The soul reaper managed a strained laugh. "I'll take your word for it."

Wordlessly, but still wearing that small smile, she reached over to reassuringly squeeze his jeans-clad knee before pulling her keys from the ignition, pocketing them and pushing open her door.

Abarai wanted to kiss the ground. The slayer of arrancar, one of the saviors of Soul Society, and Lieutenant of the Sixth wanted nothing more than to fall to his knees, prostrate himself to the blessed concrete and press his lips against the gritty surface in gratitude.

Of course, a single glance at the filthy, oil-stained cement prompted him to think better of the idea. Instead, he settled for closing the door and looking at his friend over the roof of the sleek black car. The reaper braced against an especially icy gust of wind; it was so much colder here than Soul Society and Karakura town. He glanced around at the rows of automobiles with a little confusion, "This is the airport?"

"Nope," she circled the body of their transport to step up next to him. With a smirk, she looped an arm through his, moved in close and tugged him towards the pedestrian exit. "This's just the parking lot."

The tattooed man had nearly forgotten just how physical she could be. He smirked a little and tucked his free hand in his jacket pocket as he tightened his other arm slightly around hers. Dark eyes glanced down at the curls pulled taught into a hasty half tail tied at the nape of her neck as she rested her head briefly against his shoulder. Long, escaped spirals of flame whispered against the black leather of her jacket. Memories of their all too brief encounters drifted along the surface of his mind at the sight of that textured red hair.

"I've missed you, Renji," her rough voice confessed unexpectedly. Apparently the scarred woman shared his thoughts.

He blinked, nearly missing the quiet, sad utterance. Once her words sank in, though, his muscular arm gently freed itself from her grip, only to slide bracingly around her slighter shoulders. In the process, he pulled her into the warmth of his solid body. Strong lips pressed briefly into the soft tresses, and he breathed their rich vanilla scent before sighing softly. "Missed you, too, Di. We've got a lotta catchin' up to do."

She slipped her arm around his waist in return and mirrored the quiet exhalation. "That we do." The twin doors before them slid open as they approached, revealing a veritable flood of humanity. Emerald eyes met with umber. "Let's survive this first, huh?" With that, she withdrew from him and the hand marked by Byakuya down his denim clad arm to capture his in her hold.

Renji had never seen so many people in one place in his life. For a moment, he was left gawking – at a complete loss. Soon enough, he simply found himself grateful for the guidance she provided.

It took them about ten minutes to find the Ishidas' flight on the massive array of screens sprawled one of the walls.

Rather, it took her ten minutes to find the flight. The rows of text wanted to blur into each other before the primal man's gaze, and the constant swirl of varied reiatsu kept distracting him. While she searched, he simply latched on to her rock-solid presence and stared blankly up at the monitors while keeping tabs on their surroundings as best he could.

Luckily for them, the flight had been delayed by about three hours. It gave them time to figure the lay of the structure out enough to find the predetermined meeting place.

Once they located the baggage claim and sited the correct carousel, he leaned back against the wall with her and watched the organized chaos around them from a somewhat safer distance. A sigh of relief left his chest as he allowed his tense muscles to relax marginally.

"Why do you people put yourselves through this?" He murmured in disbelief as a harried business man rushed by, jabbering at his phone in a language he couldn't remotely identify at such a high rate of speed.

"Frighteningly enough," the tired looking woman at his side paused to take a sip from the cup of coffee they had picked up at a kiosk somewhere along the way. She mmed softly in appreciation before continuing, "It's the easiest and fastest way to travel long distances. We don't have the kidou that you guys do." She smirked and stretched her back. Muffled pops brought a thankful exhalation of her own. "Big reason why I haven't been to Japan in so long."

"Huh," he crossed his arms over his broad chest and cast his eyes over the crowd. "Can't say as I blame ya." Quietly, he nodded to a teenage girl staring at him as she hustled by.

Her head bobbed in agreement, and couldn't resist the smirk tugging at her lips at seeing the girl's blush. "Don't get me started on the legalities, either." Bright green eyes drifted to a small blond boy clinging to his mother's hand and doing his best to keep up with the woman's pace while also toting a backpack as big as he was. The grin gentled at the sight, before attention again returned to her tattooed companion. "Why didn't they just go through Kisuke's gate with you and Shunsui anyway?"

Something about the little kid reminded him of Ichigo. A quite chuckle bubbled from his throat at the image alighting in his head of a boyhood Ichigo doing much the same as the lad being rushed by. At her words, Renji glanced down at her and smirked. "Quincy pride?"

A red brow arched, "'Quincy'?" Another sip was indulged, though the amused gaze upon him didn't waver. "Sounds like a good name for a horse."

He snickered, "Right. Look, how about you tell 'em that when you meet 'em." He grimaced as she drained the rest of the cup. "How can you stand that crap?"

"Honey," she grinned up at wincing warrior as she reached in front of him to drop the empty cup into the trashcan on his other side. "Coffee is the stuff of life when it comes to being woken up the way I was this morning."

The reaper snorted, and then glanced up at the wisp of familiar essence amongst the tide of frenzied reiatsu. A large hand rose to wave as soon as he spotted the two men stepping off of the moving walkway. "Oi!" He raised his voice, "Uryu!"

* * *

**Man...this chapter ended up being longer than I'd originally intended. It's been _years_ since I've actually been in NYC, so the traffic might be slightly exagerated. Don't think I've ever been to JFK, but I imagine it wouldn't been too much different than my experiences with Minneapolis, Detroit and Newark airports. *shudders***

**Anyway...enjoy!**


	5. Chapter 5

The trip had been utter and absolute hell. In addition to dealing with his father's usual enchanting personality, they had been fortunate enough to be seated between a young set of parents with a screaming child likely under a year old and a set of siblings whose favorite pastimes included kicking the backs of their seats, crunching as loudly as humanly possible on potato chips and singing the latest, most obnoxious pop songs repeatedly. Off key.

The initial hour delay before departure hadn't helped matters at all, and American customs proved to be exceptionally picky when it came to the pair of Quincies. From the way they'd been grilled, they may as well have been carrying physical bows and arrows instead of tools to summon their more powerful spectral equivalents. Even the artifacts themselves where nothing particularly suspicious, concidering they only appeared to be jewelry to the general populace.

By the time they finally made it into the swarm of people, the younger Ishida was already suffering from a massive headache and a slightly upset stomach. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than a nice, soothing cup of tea, hot shower and a soft bed – in that order.

The rising sun further disoriented the young archer, reminding him of the sizable time difference between the two countries. His mind kept telling him that it was the end of the day, but his circadian rhythm constantly screamed 'GOOD MORNING, URYU', in much the same way Ichigo's insane father greeted his son the few times the youth slept over at his friend's house.

He honestly hoped it could only get better from there. His longing for Meg had only increased as the journey progressed as well. The closer they drew to the continent she was currently trapped within, the stronger the tenuous bond felt. With all of the spiritual noise of this place, though, the last thing he wanted was to further scramble his senses by attempting to touch that stressed bond. In fact, the uncomfortable young man was halfway afraid that if he tried, he would end up humiliating himself by being sick right there in the middle of the airport.

Daring the glance at his father, he bit back a frustrated grumble at how cool, collected and utterly perfectly groomed the older man appeared to be. Somehow his slacks were still perfectly pressed, his woolen jacket fell flawlessly over his shoulders, and his white shirt didn't have a single wrinkle in it. Knowing the foul mood his father was in, imperfections were probably afraid to make an appearance, lest they be subjected to the Ishida Glare.

Uryu hefted his carry-on a little more securely over his shoulder, and tugged at his own deep blue jacket straight, then brushed at his jeans. The younger looked away before Ryuken's dry gaze could meet his.

What in the world had he done in a past life to deserve this?

Without exchanging a single word, they followed signs to the baggage claim. The young Quincy really wished that he had accompanied Abarai and Kyoraku through the gate instead of braving the more conventional airlines. With a sigh, he adjusted the bag resting upon his shoulder again and scanned the crowd. At long last, he spotted a familiar hand waving above the horde of people. He could barely make out the unmistakable crimson of the reaper's hair across the distance, but the touch of the shinigami's scarlet spirit ribbon cemented Renji's identity in his mind. Relieved, the dark haired man moved to take as step in their direction, but was halted by a hard hand on his shoulder.

"We will _not _associate with them," his father's cold voice hissed in his ear, steely eyes boring into his own.

_This_ now? Did the man never _stop_?

Temper already frayed too close to the breaking point, he shot the man an angry glare. "We'll need them if we're going to get her back," Uryu shot back hotly. He could feel his hand curling into a tight fist. It was tempting, so very tempting, to take a swing at the man who had sired him. He drew a deep, steadying breath and consciously loosened his fingers.

"What can the shinigami do that we cannot, Uryu?" Instead of continuing on with the old tirade the son was in no mood to tolerate, the elder trailed off when another voice interrupted.

"Excuse me, gentlemen." A feminine, graveled voice firmly rose out of nowhere. Between them stood a woman clad in a black leather jacket, unzipped to reveal a deep green v-neck sweater and jeans. Gathered at her neck was a fiery mass of curls a few of which contrasted sharply with the dark hide as they cascaded down her back, and seething emerald eyes glared up at the two taller men.

Uryu jolted and took a step back. He sensed an unmistakable power to this woman - an uncanny energy which seemed to radiate from deep within her soul, only to blend seamlessly into the edges of reality itself. The young man repressed the shiver threatening to race down his spine, and glanced over at his father.

To the average observer, the silver-haired man was completely unfazed, if not slightly disgusted at being interrupted. His son caught the slight pinch around his eyes, and the subtle tightening of the jaw, though. The man was stressed and a little startled. Wonderful. That meant more Ryuken charm.

"Might I remind you that you are in an American airport – one of the most closely watched, in fact – and the overly paranoid Homeland Security officers are just dying to take a couple of foreign trouble makers into custody?" The rough tone was coldly professional, the bright eyes pits of green flame. Her arms crossed challengingly across her chest.

Hard blue eyes narrowed under a shock of white hair, "And you are?" The man's voice matched hers in attitude, as did the glare.

The woman's unamused expression transformed into a friendly smile with unnerving speed. "Diana Kimora. It's a pleasure." That gaze, however, still reminded Uryu of a firestorm straining to burn its way into the taller Quincy's flesh.

At the young archer's side, Renji snorted lightly and murmured lowly. "Not the best first impression."

Uryu shook his head in agreement. "No kidding," he muttered.

"Ah, you are the one here to meet us, then. I am Ryuken Ishida, and this is my son, Uryu." The stiff bow was a mere mockery of manners. "What do you suggest we do, Miss Kimora?"

"First," she tilted her head and smiled a little more widely. That curve of those shapely lips was sharp as a blade. "I'd say drop the attitude, but I've the feeling that's not in the cards," she shot him a pointed look. "Instead, how about we pick up your luggage and get out of here?"

The elder Ishida simply held out a condescending hand in a clipped gesture for the woman to lead the way. When she stepped past them, casually brushing her arm against Ryuken's jacket along the way, dislodging its straight line, the elder man followed in icy silence. The shorter man could practically hear his father's teeth grinding together in irritation.

Renji shook his head and glanced down at Uryu. "Trip was that good, huh?"

The boy rolled his eyes. "You have _no_ idea." He sighed and massaged a temple. "Is she always that…charming?"

The taller reaper shrugged and threaded through the crowd with him after the duo. "Only when someone pisses her off. Doesn't help that we kind of got thrust on her without any warning this morning. Looks like your dad just got lucky."

"Heh," he shot a look at the two others. "He makes his own luck, as far as I'm concerned."

Ryuken stood straight and tense, a direct contrast with Diana's easy stance as they waited for the luggage to appear. It was obvious to the trained eye that they were both warriors, for each held perfect balance, and loosely ready muscle, despite lengthy travel or rough morning. The lines of electric tension between the two were almost visible to the naked eye.

Sapphire eyes blinked as part of what Renji had just said sank in. "She wasn't warned about us?"

Renji shook his head. "She was on the phone with Urahara when we got there." A smirk lit upon his lips. "Still in bed, too."

Uryu pushed up his glasses with a long finger, and shot his friend a knowing look. "Pervert."

"Wha-…hey, it's not like she was naked or anything!" The tattooed man flushed when the subject of conversation looked over her shoulder and cocked a brow. Ryuken, too, had glanced back with a morbidly curious expression on his face.

Abarai apparently hadn't realized just how much his voice had risen. The blushing soul reaper ducked his head and waved a hand dismissively, then shot a glare at the youth at his side when Diana simply snickered and turned away. Ryuken's gaze dipped down at her briefly, no doubt wondering what he'd gotten himself into, and stepped forward to grab a suitcase from the conveyor belt.

Uryu couldn't hide his smirk. Maybe this trip wasn't going to be that bad after all.

* * *

**I had _entirely_ too much fun with this chapter. XD Man, Ryuken and Di are gonna be fun to bounce off of each other in this story.**


	6. Chapter 6

Meg had been making pretty decent time, considering she was on foot and carried only the few things she'd been able to steal from the ill-fated base and an unwary biker too busy arguing with another guy at a rest stop other to notice light fingers at his back pocket.

She had endeavored to make the most of what she could grab – a blanket for extra warmth during the few winks of sleep she could afford on the way, a basic first aid kit in case her healing failed, a modest store of rations, a map to plot her course, a switch-blade for gutting small prey, a canteen, a lighter and a thick sheave of paperwork her instincts told her to grab while she was setting the bombs.

The young woman would have honestly preferred to have also grabbed a portable tent and sleeping bag, but mobility was a priority, as was discretion. She could risk neither getting weighed down, nor suspicion falling upon her before she could make her escape. As it was, if not for her shaky hold on the reishi based powers she'd learned of in Japan, she would have been caught and no doubt executed for it – likely on a cold operating table by way of vivisection carried out by the sadists who called themselves scientists.

The youth shuddered at the thought.

She had survived with less in the past, even if she did have whatever squadron she was assigned to work with during the respective mission. Now, she may have been alone in body, but she couldn't shake the feeling of being supported in spirit. It was strange how that unspoken companionship brought her more strength than being surrounded by nameless operatives.

It had only been about three hours since the break out, but she estimated that she'd covered a good fifty to fifty-five miles already. That meant she only had about thirty miles to go.

Strong, slender legs had pumped in a carefully paced run for much of the first two and half hours but finally slowed to a walk for the last thirty minutes. Her body was pleasantly warm and loose as she put one foot in front of another.

The ache in her back wasn't that bad yet, her energy level was still pretty high, and the purloined hoodie was high enough quality to keep her cozy enough against the occasional desert breeze. She had carefully downed a small portion of high calorie rations with a little water from the canteen when she had started walking. Her body was already trained to operate on limited rest and food from the conditioning she'd been subjected to.

From the indigo hue the sky had taken, sunrise was going to be making an appearance shortly. As soon as the sun peeked above the horizon, the day will warm enough for more comfortable travel.

The color reminded her of his eyes - fading stars of the glint of his ethereal bow upon mundane glasses. Her chest constricted with the memory of her last glance of that entrancing, concentrated gaze.

Slowly, she fisted and unfisted her hands in the front pocket of the hooded garment at the body memory of his closeness. Meg wanted that again – so badly that the yearning ached far more deeply than the phantom pain of her missing wings.

The grind of pebbles shifting under her sneakers proved to be a strangely solitary sound.

Unconsiously, she reached for that oh so slender bond and curled a shimmering spirit ribbon around it. Meg hoped the slight thickening she felt wasn't her imagination.

Dark eyes settled upon the dusty road rising along the hill before her, and her mind returned to the journey currently underway. The rail tracks she'd spotted on the map where only a few miles ahead, and if she timed it correctly, she could hop on a passing freight car.

The faster she got out of New Mexico, the better.

Hitching a ride on an east bound train for a little while seemed like a good idea. She was certain no one would notice her, so long as she jumped ship before they hit the train yard. If she could at least ride through the remainder of the desert, she should be able to forage for food to supplement meager rations through Texas and into Louisiana. As long as all went according to plan, the trip shouldn't be as grueling as she was halfway afraid it would be.

Why would things go according to plan, though?

Cold heaviness, not felt since Japan, settled across her shoulders and chest. On instinct, freakish eyes lit up and rose to hastily scan the slowly lightening heavens above. Cautiously, she turned in place, as her eyes intensified their glow. Gradually, she acclimated to the flowing ginger energy patterns of the desolate area.

On her second turn, she spotted the cause.

Rotten threads of green slithered from a rancid black mouth slit into the air above a boulder several feet away. As she watched, they whipped around their immediate area, as if searching for something. The tendrils languidly twisted around themselves, then fused into thick, glistening tentacles. Soon, the last seams between the original strands faded into slick, rounded limbs. Without warning, the serpentine protrusions twisted in her direction and shot with a wet hiss directly for her chest.

Her body reacted automatically – throwing itself back onto the shoulder of the road, as her mind coiled spirit energy closely into a cocoon of unseen power. Fingertips grazed the uppermost pebbles when she slid to a stop, crouched ferally. Eyes glowing unnatural neon narrowed within the darkness of her hood.

Dual explosions threw orange dust into the air where she had just been standing. The tentacles snapped back as soon as the plume of dust wafted in their direction. They corkscrewed in on themselves just before the narrow rip which they snaked out of.

Warily, she watched them as they swayed like cobras rising from their nest.

The ambient golden energy seemed to be sucked towards their slimy surface, but instead of being absorbed, it simply brushed over their undulating forms. When the desert's essence drifted free of them, it was polluted with sticky strands of rotten, translucent green.

Slowly, she inched to her right, eerie gaze not leaving the spectral spectacle.

The heaviness increased subtly, causing the sore muscles in her back to tense.

This time she could hear the faint rip as a second mouth opened, directly behind her.

Without taking time to think, she dove out of the way as another set of glossy olive tentacles shot out at her. After a quick tuck and roll, she again slid to her feet in a low stance. Silently, the traveler watched the plumes of dirt rise, then blow in the direction of her inhuman tormentors.

Dark brows knit within the sheltering fabric when sickening protrusions recoiled from the dust in the air.

She knew painfully little about reiatsu - only what Captain Ukitake, Urahara and Uryu had taught her, as well as what little she'd been able to observe on her own. Her understanding of Hollows was even more lacking, but she did know enough about both subjects to realize that these strange limbs had to be something from the same place her former prey originated from – Hueco Mundo. They reeked of death, rot and despair.

It would also appear that they had an aversion to the dirt all around them. It seemed like a foolish weakness to have to her, but if she was right, it might very well provide an avenue of escape – stupid on their creator's part or not.

Dimly, she became aware of the rumble of a tractor-trailer coming down the road. An idea struck. She narrowed her eyes and concentrated on the disturbing jade shoots.

They tensed a fraction of a second before again lunging at her, each set perfectly synchronized with the other. The woman dodged out of the way and rolled to a crouch as the things withdrew in preparation for another attack. A corner of her mind wondered if they were from the same creature hidden in the other world, or two different creatures. From the way they seemed to move together, her bet was on a single being.

Her palms pressed into the night-cooled dirt under her hands.

The dust the truck kicked up was now visible

A double handful of dirt was scooped up as the vehicle bore down upon them, and just before it arrived, she hurled the loose particles at the two sets tentacles.

They jerked back with an inhuman shriek when the spray of projectiles struck.

At the same time, she hurled herself at the back of the passing truck.

When the dust cleared, their quarry was gone, cloaked by concentration which was beginning to grow painful and perched upon the loading step of the oversized vehicle as it continued on its way. Fingers stained a light orange by the sand clutched at the locked door to keep her balance.

Her first sunrise as a free woman was bittersweet.

The soft pinks held promise of gentler times to come, but the bloody red which swiftly followed reflected the fierce disappointment nipping at the edges of her heart.

This was just a small set-back. She may be going in the wrong direction now, but she had to have faith that she would make it to her goal. She had to have faith that she was not as small and alone in the face of the world as she felt.

* * *

**I can't just make it _easy_ on her, now can I? ;)**

**Now, I've never been to New Mexico, but from my research, I did find that the nights can get pretty chilly, especially in the winters. I doubt they're anything like the Minnesota and New York winters I'm used to, but if any readers would like to give any testimonials to their experiences in that region, I wouldn't argue. Also, I got the whole distance idea from Google and Wikipedia, via research on marathons, and just how far Roswell is from the New Mexico border. Same with the basic gear she packed. I figure she'd be pretty well trained in surviving with next to nothing.**

**Lastly, if any readers have any strange names of towns between Roswell, NM and New Orleans, feel free to drop me a line, and I'll see if I can incorporate them into the story. I know there are some really weird ones out there.  
**


	7. Chapter 7

Uryu swore sparks would literally start flying between his father and the red-haired woman on the ride from the airport. From the tense way Renji held himself in the seat next to him, he knew the reaper felt much the same way.

When at last they'd arrived at the run-down apartment building, a black Grand Victoria twin to the one Di drove – right down to the small "Interceptor" decal on the trunk - was parked in front of the squat building with a rental company car idling behind it.

As soon as the blonde boy leaning against the car door saw Ryuken unfold himself from the passenger seat into the bright early winter's day, he'd rushed over, handed over the keys and explained that was the car their 'friend' had rented on their behalf.

More of Urahara's work, no doubt.

The young archer smirked at his father's scowl as he climbed the grimy steps after the tattooed reaper. Their fair hostess stayed at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed as she watched the silvered man sign the paperwork and hand it back to the nervous young man. Her breath rose in gentle vaporous clouds into the chill air.

Uryu shook his head and followed Renji to the drab little apartment. He glanced around with a frown. The living room was very small – only big enough for a free standing couch opposite a television nestled into the far corner, and an undersized coffee table tucked between couch and TV. To the right of the entryway, there was a small hallway leading to a tiny bathroom, and another closed door – presumably the bedroom. The living room itself opened into a modest kitchenette. Decoration was sorely lacking, but boxes stacked in the corner parallel to the door through which he and Renji just entered indicated that was likely either because she was moving in or out.

Despite the fact he'd only just met Urahara's 'contact', the dwelling did not feel like a place she would stay in for a long period of time at all.

Renji had wandered out of view into the kitchenette, once he slid free of his boots, leaving Uryu to move to the couch after removing his own footwear. Upon looking down, he blinked at finding Shunsui lounging on the couch. A strange green laptop whirred away on the coffee table. The youth repressed a shudder at the strange pulsating tubes lining the sleek body of the machine. He wondered just why the Twelfth Division had to include such grotesque ornamentation to their technology. With an effort, he shoved that ponderance aside, instead opting for a surprised, "Captain Kyoraku?"

The brunette looked up and favored him with his trademark grin. "Morning, Uryu." The broad-shouldered man sat up and turned to afford more ease in looking up at the young Quincy. "How was the trip?"

"Fine," he covered a sudden yawn, and dropped down on the end of the couch furthest from the shinigami. The young man was far more tired than he thought he was going to be. Still, he frowned lightly at the much older man, "Don't get me wrong, but I would have thought Captain Ukitake would be here."

"Ah," he offered the other two a grin when Di finally closed the door after herself and Ryuken. "Jyushiro wanted to come, yes, but I'm afraid he's too ill."

Di arched a brow, and motioned the elder Ishida over to the couch. "He gets sick often, doesn't he?" She brushed a hand over the top of her old friend's head as she passed him to help a quietly cursing Renji in the kitchen.

The reaper never was particularly good at domestics.

Shunsui shrugged and offered the scowling Ryuken a jaunty grin. "Only at the most inopportune of moments, it seems."

Once mugs of tea had been passed out and an offering of hastily prepared bagels set on the table, Diana dropped down between Uryu and Shunsui, since Ryuken seemed content to stand behind his son. Renji leaned against the back of the couch between the human and reaper.

The captain reached forward to hit a button on the computer, then lent back as the screen came to life and draped an arm casually over the back of the couch behind Diana. "Hey, Yama-ji."

"Good to see you all made it," the Captain Commander's deceptively sleepy image intoned from the computer's screen. "Diana Kimora, thank you for playing host."

Di nodded slightly and laced her fingers together over a knee. "No problem. Now, why am I playing host, exactly?"

Yamamoto almost smirked. "It had come to the soul society's attention that a very valuable young woman is being targeted by Hueco Mundo. Lieutenant Abarai and Uryuu Ishida know her best of your group. We need to retrieve her before Sousuke Aizen can capture her." He held a hand up at Di's confused expression. "Shunsui can fill you in there."

The lone woman nodded and rubbed the back of her neck with the scarred hand. "Ok. So, do we know where she might be? This is a big country. Much bigger than Japan."

The Captain Commander nodded. "According to Kisuke Urahara, who is tracking her progress, she is currently in New Mexico. Your group is to rendezvous with her in New Orleans, Louisiana."

"I've always wanted to see Mardi Gras," Shunsui rumbled wistfully from her side.

Di bit back a comment about how he really just wanted to see the topless girls with an effort. Instead, she regarded the screen, a grin tugging rebelliously at the corners of her mouth. "How long do we have?"

"Would ten days be reasonable?" The old man queried.

The woman lightly bit at the inside of her cheek in thought, before speaking a little uncertainly. "Well, that wouldn't be a problem for us, but if this girl is on foot, it might take her a little longer than that."

"Perhaps." All eyes turned to Uryu as he lowered the mug from his lips. "But I have confidence that if she doesn't make it by then, we'll still be able to find her through our bond."

Determined sapphire met considering emerald, before the young woman conceded with a shrug.

After that pause, Renji's voice rose from his place behind the couch. "We'll make it happen, sir."

"Very well." Yamamoto nodded. "We will keep lines of communication open. Thank you."

With that, the screen flickered to darkness.

Over the next few hours, Ryuken and Uryu had been left at the small apartment to get a little sleep, while Di took Renji and Shunsui out to tie up loose ends necessary before their trip began.

Through the outing, Shunsui was surprised at just how lonely her life was. Indeed, the apartment she was staying in was not her own, but an acquaintance's who was dealing with a few personal problems and needed a house-sitter for a while. It appeared that the young woman had been living on the go for quite a while, and working via online communication as a translator. There were very few friends involved, and those were not particularly close. While the head sensei of the dojo said he would miss her assistance, it was easy enough to tell that they would do fine without her.

It was no wonder their Lil' Bara was so world weary.

At the moment, the three had just claimed a small table in a little hole-in-the-wall Italian place when the captain slid a hand over Di's, then caught her startled gaze.

"Ah…" A fiery brow rose, "Yes, Shunsui?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Renji watching them contemplatively. "Diana, are you alright?"

She blinked. "Well, I'm thrown a little off balance by all of this, but…"

He shook his head, cutting her off wordlessly. "What happened to your family?"

She cringed and slid her hand from the warmth of his. Slowly, she took a sip of water, a spot on the table suddenly appeared to be very interesting. "Sensei and okaa-san died about five years ago. I'm still gaijin to most of the extended family, outside of a cousin or two. It's not really all that unexpected." Green clad shoulders shrugged. "Sensei was much respected, but his decision to adopt me wasn't particularly popular." Her blood relations were apparently not worth mentioning. She looked up and tried for a smile. "I'm ok. Really. So," she continued before either man could respond to her words, or the resignedly sad tone in which they were delivered, "fill me in on what's been going on with you guys."

As they dined, the two shinigami quietly told her about the betrayal, war and Meg's appearance. It was handy that they were the only ones in the establishment who spoke Japanese.

When finally the words faded and the food was gone, Di leaned back in her chair and tapped her half full glass of water with a fingertip. She barely knew Tousen, so there was little shock there – even less where Gin was concerned, considering she always felt as if she needed a shower every time the man looked at her, but Aizen's actions were very hard to swallow. Despite the chaos of the time, she had really liked the unassuming captain. These ere feelings to be lingered over another time, however.

The winged woman tugged at her, though. Something stowed deeply within the jumble of memories from her days between worlds nagged at the back of her mind. "How do you guys know she's not just a lure for a trap? It doesn't sound as if Hueco Mundo has its claws in her, but those black ops types…" She shuddered, "They're tricky."

"True," Shunsui intoned softly, "but I've the feeling our young Quincy friend would be able to sense changes in her energy if that were the case."

She gave him a skeptical look. "From this far away?"

Renji shrugged and leaned back, chewing idly on a toothpick. "How far away can she be?"

Di laughed and snatched the check just before the tattooed man's fingers could touch it. "Nope. My treat." She held the check close to her chest after looking at the total, and shook her head at any argument from the men. "The US is a big place, Abarai. It's going to take us at least two days to get to Louisiana as is, and that's assuming that nothing gets in our way. We'll be in cars – she's on foot, so I honestly don't know how long she'd need."

Shunsui slung an arm around her shoulders once they'd started on their way from the restaurant after paying. "Lil' Bara," his grin widened at her cringe. "What could go wrong?"

The woman chuckled and reached up to pat the stubbled cheek affectionately. "You always were the optimist, weren't you?"

His chuckle rumbled deeply in his chest. "If I wasn't, who would be?"

Renji just shook his head with a smirk as Di unlocked the car doors.

* * *

**Zounds! A chapter!**

**...one in which not a whole lot happens. I'm sorry if it's dissappointing. I just felt like I had to get a little bit of this background stuff out of the way before I tossed them onto the highway.**


	8. Chapter 8

Meg crouched against the side of an abandoned, weather beaten shack and poured over the map spread carefully on the sand in front of her. A gentle breeze rustled over the barren landscape, and scattered bits of the loose earth over the paper. She bit her lip as she swept her palm over the map, then retraced the path the truck had taken before it had slowed enough for her to leap free with a light fingertip.

She was southeast of a place called Truth or Consequence, but southwest of the base she'd escaped from. A corner of her mind wondered why in the world someone would name a place just north of the oddly named town Elephant Butt - that 'e' at the end of the second word had to be wrong - before it was hushed.

The teen sighed and pulled the sweatshirt up over her head. The winter sun was surprisingly warm when it beat down on a person for an extended period of time. With a soft sigh, she tucked the soft fabric behind her head and leaned back against the rickety structure.

Unnaturally dark eyes tracked the clouds drifting through the flawless blue sky as she contemplated on how to move forward.

This was turning out to be far more complicated than she'd originally thought it would be. While she was reasonably sure that the agency behind her creation wasn't going to come after her, what with the mess she'd left behind, she hadn't counted on the otherworldly problems following her to America from Japan.

Unfortunately, that creature from before reminded her powerfully of the pink-haired man Ukitake and Urahara had fought in that last battle, and served as a glaring reminder of her oversight.

Not good at all.

He had to have tracked her somehow, and she was positive it wasn't by the usual mundane means. However, that didn't mean those strange energetic methods she honestly didn't understand complete weren't being put into play. In fact, it was highly likely that was exactly what was going on.

Lightly, she bit the inside of her cheek in thought. Her travel-route would most likely be pretty solitary, so using peoples' reiatsu around her as a screen would be out as an option for the most part. She still tired ridiculously quickly when using her cloaking technique as well, so that would only be a last ditch effort.

She had been working on suppressing her energy, though. While it was still difficult to maintain without conscious effort, that particular aspect of reiatsu manipulation was still far easier to do than any of the other options she knew of right at the moment. It appeared the time to get creative had arrived.

Her thoughts turned to what Uryu had taught her about the ambient energy around them all and how the Quincy used it to make their weapons. Frowning slightly, she lit her eyes and held a hand up.

She had discovered the hard way before she had been captured that she couldn't channel the way the Quincy did, nor could she materialize the way the Shinigami did. Each time she tried, her palms ended up singed and bloody from where the reishi burned her. However, she did find that if she kept the touch light, she could easily manipulate the energy without need of summoning or materialization.

Slowly, a glowing ball formed in the valley of her hand.

With a grin, she cupped the sphere gently and prompted it to thin over the finely lined skin of her palm, then to expand like a glove over her fingers and the back of her hand. Furrowing her brows in concentration, she concentrated on twisting the glowing energy settled just over skin into a sleek, reflective surface instead of a soft glow. Suddenly, she couldn't see the limb anymore – as if it were cut cleanly off at the wrist.

Now this – this was promising indeed.

The damn girl-toy was proving to be more infuriating than he'd originally anticipated.

Szayel leaned back in his lushly cushioned chair and once again watched the video of the girl that his customized fracctione had brought back. Long fingers steepled as pink eyes took in the scene presented to him for the tenth time.

He hadn't thought that she would not only pick out the weakness he couldn't rid the slavering beast of, but also realize its goal of capturing at least a bit of her reiatsu. The effeminate man scowled as the girl on the screen once again filled her hand with loose grit.

Even worse, her energy signature now seemed to have vanished. Where he not so irritated, he'd be more interested in figuring out how she did it than in finding the girl herself.

The numero scowled at the screen when the picture jolted as the creature withdrew from the flying dirt from the experiment's fingertips.

The little one was unpredictable, but that only added to her maddening allure.

"Calm yourself," he muttered to himself as his fingers flew over the keyboard. "My new little specimen couldn't have gotten far." All things worth having were worth working for, after all. It had been quite a while since he'd found such an amusing subject. Even that cocky little Quincy and annoying shinigami hadn't captured his interest as thoroughly as this human-made being did.

An atlas of New Mexico and Texas popped up on his screen with a dotted line denoting her detectable movements thus far crawling across a small portion of the map's surface. That line stopped about midway between two moderately sized towns where her signature had vanished.

Szayel leaned forward, and narrowed his eyes in thought as he studied the layout of land and roads spidered across the screen.

If she remained true to form, she would stay with the back roads, though he doubted the girl would take the same course again. She had already proven that she was more intelligent than he had given her credit for, and if there was one thing Aporro Granz took pride in, it was his own intellect. It wouldn't do to allow this young thing to outsmart him.

Unfortunately, it appeared as if he would need to venture into the world of the living himself if he had any hopes of capturing her. It was obvious that he couldn't trust one of his underlings to do the job with any kind of effectiveness.

It was a shame, really. He so hated to get his hands dirty.

Granz took comfort in the idea that the more effort put into attaining this fascinating little weapon, the more benefit he will reap from her.

* * *

This is a bit of a short chapter, but um, here it is! Hope yall enjoy! 


	9. Chapter 9

At long last, they were on the road. In actuality, they had been on the road since before sunrise the day after their arrival, but that long, somewhat cramped night on makeshift beds of cushions and blankets didn't make for the best sleep. While Uryu trusted these particular shinigami, his father did not, and his tossing and turning made the night no less easy to bear.

The fact that they were on the move more than made up for the lingering fatigue, however.

The young Quincy would have honestly preferred to ride along with the shinigami and their friend, but the reasons to stay with his father outnumbered the ones to part company. Not only were there appearances to keep up, and his father's later wrath to consider, but also Ryuken's irritated reactions to whatever the American said to him through the earpieces the two wore to easily keep in touch with each other.

"For the _last time_," his father snapped into the blue-tooth, "I would _not_ make an ideal cow-boy. Quincy have _nothing_ to do with horses!"

Apparently, Diana had taken a liking to Ryuken bating.

Uryu bit off a laugh when color rose to his father's cheeks at the woman's apparently base reply.

Ryuuken scowled through the windshield at the other car, grip gone tight on the steering wheel. "That is none of your business." The man switched to the German he and his son had been raised speaking as a second language, "Crude American." The pink splashed across the ordinarily unflappable man's cheeks deepened, but his voice remained flat when he returned to the Japanese. "You speak German, too? Wonderful."

The younger Ishida covered his snicker with a cough and purely innocent look. He couldn't help but enjoy watching a little of his father's karma catch up with him.

A brief glance at Renji's sharp grin reflected in the passenger side rearview mirror of the car in front of them told him he wasn't the only one getting a kick out of the teasing. The junior Ishida had no doubt that Abarai and Kyoraku were helping her come up with ideas, too.

With a smirk, the young man shifted in his seat and leaned back. Sapphire eyes closed as he reached for the spider-silk tether between him and Meg. Once they were away from the crowded city, the young Quincy had found it far easier to find that bond again and concentrate on the unlikely youth on the other end.

Sure enough, when he reached, the slender silver cord was right there for him to touch. He allowed his breathing to slow, like his grandfather had taught him all those years ago, and traced the shimmering line through the ether.

Random little thoughts would pop up from time to time, like 'Is this how she sees the world?' and 'Does America have a different Seireitei?', but he'd learned long ago to simply acknowledge these and let them go in order to maintain the trance. If he lingered upon them, he would lose his grip on that tenuous strand. Regaining that touch with any sort of speed was nearly impossible when lost.

So, he let his father make acidic comments to the fiery woman driving before them and the naked winter trees pass by without notice.

At long last, the tether stopped. He couldn't sense anything on the other end.

Dark brows knit behind rectangular frames as he concentrated harder.

The strand was still there, unchanged, but he still couldn't sense the girl anchoring the other side.

His heart kicked its rate up a few notches and he flared his reiatsu in an attempt to strengthen the bond. That slip in control was his undoing.

With a sharp gasp, his eyes snapped open and flitted around the interior of the car in a frantic attempt to gain his bearings again.

"…to pull over," his father was just saying soberly into the earpiece. The man divided his attention between his son and the road in front of them.

Uryu slumped back into his seat and removed his glasses to rub his eyes as they followed the other vehicle onto the next exit. Within a few minutes, the two Grand Vics were parked side by side in the rest stop's parking lot.

The young man swung his door open and pulled himself free of the car. A lungful of cold air cleared the rattled archer's mind.

The other door slammed just before his father's head and shoulders appeared over the roof of the car. By this point, the others had also risen from their auto and Uryu found himself face to face with the tattooed soul reaper.

"You ok? What'd you do?" Renji blurted.

Annoyed, the youth rolled his eyes. "I'm fine." He stepped away from the car and slammed the door a little harder than he had intended. "I tried finding Meg through our link, but…" he trailed off.

"Yes?" His father prompted, coming to a halt on the woman's side not taken by Shunsui.

Uryu drew a steadying breath. "She wasn't there."

Stunned looks met him from all around.

"But, wouldn't that mean," Abarai started with a frown.

"She's not dead," the younger Quincy snapped vehemently in reply.

"Ok," Di raised a hand placatingly before shoving it back into her pocket for warmth. "How about we talk this over inside," they all braced against an icy gust of wind, "where it's hopefully a little less chilly?"

Over a small meal in the small diner attached to the rest stop, Uryu told them what had happened.

"So," his father began when he'd finished talking, "just how precisely can you follow this link?" The man plucked the atlas sitting by Di and opened it, flipping to their location.

The teen pushed his glasses up his nose as he looked to the lined page and shook his head. "At this point? Not very. I just know she's somewhere to the south."

There was a quiet scraping sound as Diana scooted her chair closer to Ryuken's and pulled the atlas closer. "In that case, let's just stay on course for Naw 'Lins," she drawled the last word playfully.

His father shook his head at her foolishness, but still bowed his head over the wire-bound booklet. "I still don't understand why you don't just trust the GPS."

Di snorted. "Please. That lady's way too finicky to trust."

It took Uryu a second to realize that she was referring to the voice setting on the directional devices mounted on their dashboards.

"You do realize this is an inanimate object we're talking about here." The taller man didn't bother gifting the woman at his side with a look to match his dry tone of voice.

"Yeah," she however smirked at him, "but that doesn't mean it's any less satisfying to call her names when she screws up…"

All five heads snapped up before Ryuken could respond. Unexpected heaviness had filled the diner.

"Go," Di told them, suddenly serious as the grave. "I'll take care of this."

The Shinigami and Quincy didn't need to be told twice.

* * *

**If any of you have ever used a GPS in an unfamiliar area, you'll understand Di's irritation.**

**I had so much fun with this! Poor Ryuken.**

**Also, I'm so sorry for delay in responses and posts (for like, all of my stories). I've barely had a chance to breath around here, and when I do get the chance to write, I'm either too beat to do anything of quality, or it gets cut short. *facepalms* I swear I'll reply to comments, notes, etc as soon as I can! I love getting them, have no doubt of that!**


	10. Chapter 10

After his wife had died, his father often told him, "Ryuken, you cannot hide from your heart, nor can you abandon your heritage."

He had brushed those words off as inconsequential, despite the ache their truth brought up deep within the center of his soul.

When Soken was taken by the accursed shinigami, he buried that pain even deeper, and dove even further into the business of saving the living. The dead were the shinigami's business. The way of the Quincy was obsolete, and he had wished time and again that his little Uryu would give up such foolishness.

Time proven the young man to be every bit as stubborn as he, however. By this point, the junior Ishida had already proven himself in battle numerous times and Ryuken himself had granted the boy the tools he had so foolishly thrown away in the Soul Society. Frustrating as he was, he was still Ryuken's son, and the heart of a father will always beat first and foremost for his child. It mattered not how foolhardy that child was.

Ryuken fought his way through the strife which had followed within Karakura while the dark-haired Ishida was away in Hueco Mundo with his comrades – battling to save the Inoue girl and the world. Miraculously, the side of proverbial angels won, but by an uncomfortably slim margin.

They were all fools to think peace would last after the final horrors of that narrowly won war had passed. No one, however, could have predicted the current situation.

The silvered Quincy stood side by side with his offspring and the tattooed Shinigami, bracing against driving snow and squinting at the maw around which the angry sky writhed.

"Holy crap," the American on Renji's other side muttered once she broke away from the building they had just been in.

Above them, nearly lost in the driving snow, floated two figures clad in black lined white.

One was tall and thin, black hair flickering in wind that somehow left the ridiculous spoon-shaped collar auraing his head alone.

The other was shorter, but solidly built, lean arms crossed over his bared chest, blue eyes the same shade of his hair fixed on the quintet below. "Tch," his abrasive voice drifted down to them. "This's who we're s'posedta take care of? Shit, and I thought this was gonna be a challenge."

Ryuken quirked a brow. At least he wouldn't need to worry about witty banter.

Renji snorted, "All healed up huh, Grimmjow? I seem ta remember Ichigo leavin' ya bleedin' in the desert."

"Idiot, this isn't the best place to pick a fight." Uryuu muttered at the red-headed reaper under his breath, pushing his glasses up his nose. Ryuuken was inclined to agree with his son's assessment.

"Now, now, Abarai-san, no need to provoke them." Shunsui spoke up calmly, after murmuring something quietly to the lone woman amongst them, and then waved a hand at the two. "If it's all the same to you two, I'm afraid the weather is simply frightful, perhaps we can wait until the sun comes out to continue with our little party, ne?"

"What, runnin' away already? Are ya really that scared t' face us?" The tall one shoved the shorter one's shoulder. "You handle 'em, they're too weak for me. If they need th' help of a girl, they sure as hell can't stand up t' my power."

The elder Quincy glanced over at the young woman, only to find her rolling her eyes at the Espada's stupidity. "I dunno, guys. Looks like they're just up for chatting." Diana pulled the collar of her jacket up and ventured into the tempest, hauling Renji by the cuff of his jacket with her. "Let's go." The tattooed man bent close as they went to listen to what the shorter whispered to him.

Ryuuken caught the quick glance she shot back at them, and read in those bright eyes that they needed to take this somewhere a little more isolated.

"Oi!" The spoon called in annoyance, "Where ya goin'?"

Ryuuken followed Di's example, ducking his head against the wind and sensing both Kyoraku and his son following. They all ignored the two above them.

The two red-heads were already halfway through the parking lot by the time Grimmjow swept down at them. Ryuuken made out a flash of yellow light at the woman's side, just before she brought her suddenly solidified blade up to block the Espada's.

"Hey, kitty-kitty," she crooned with a wicked grin as Renji's gigai ran for their car once the shinigami had left it. "I'm sorry, I'm all outa nip." And she shoved him back just as Renji moved in with a strike of his own.

Ryuuken was distracted from their fight when the taller Espada came flying at him. In the span of a second, his bright blue bow was summoned, and burning bolts of energy flew at the advancing energy.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Uryuu doing much the same, and Shunsui's gigai also making a bee-line for the same car Renji's was.

The Espada ignored the arrows as they splashed uselessly against his heirro. He did however stop short when Shunsui imposed himself between the elder Quincy and himself.

With a charming smile, the shinigami captain shoved the bigger man back with his katana. "I'm afraid you really have the wrong idea about us." He followed the initial block with a lethal swing of his wakizashi.

Ahead, Renji was exchanging frenzied blows with the blue-haired adversary as Diana ran for their vehicles.

The woman looked back at the two humans and yelled back in her broken voice, "Puff! Get to your car!"

"Puff?" Ryuuken muttered and glanced at Uryu questioningly. He got a shrug in reply as his son bolted for their rented car. The elder simply shook his head and dug his keys out as he ran.

Under cover of snow, twin engines started up and the two Grand Vics roared out of the parking lot.

Within a few moments, Diana's voice sounded in his ear, courteously of the Bluetooth situated there. "Renji and Shunsui are back in their gigai. We've lost those two idiots for now, but follow my lead. I'm probably more used to driving in this weather than you are."

"Diana?" The silver haired man asked tersely.

There was a pause, before her wary voice answered. "Yes?"

A silvered brow quirked. "Puff?"

A rough snicker made its way over the line, just before rather off key singing floated its way over the wireless connection, "Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea…"

It took him a moment to realize she saw him smoking for the first time before they took off for the trip. The man groaned. Wonderful. "Enough, Diana."

"What?" Her snicker had somehow evolved into a laugh. It was beyond him how she could go from serious to jovial so quickly. "It's cute!"

This was going to be a long, _long_ trip.

* * *

**So sorry this took so long to put up! Life's been insane, and I had a wicked block to get through. Thanks so much to my buddy at DA, kallylovessesshomaru.**

**Also, I finally got the battle scene from chapter 24 of Hollow Hunters up. It's on my profile as Hollow Hunters Battle. Yeah, catchy title, 'eh? *facepalms* I'd also cleaned Chapter 24 up as well, since there were some pretty stupid errors throughout.**

**Regardless, I hope this was worth the wait! Thanks so much for reading!  
**


	11. Chapter 11

It was the dead of night when the freight train rumbled into the Lovington rail station. A shadowy figure, lithe in its silence, hopped free of one of the rear cars long before it could be unloaded. Mist rose from a mouth hidden by the hood of a grey sweatshirt and fisted hands shoved themselves deeply into the pockets of the garment against the cold air.

The young escapee was limping slightly as she trudged through the frosty twilight towards the city's lights. Meg hurt far more than she wanted to admit. The severed nerve endings which used to feed the absent wings kept sent burning signals to her brain. The twisted muscles of her upper back cramped in protest from the abuse of the awkward sleeping position during the few cold hours she was able to catch curled up with her blanket, against the uncaring interior steel of the transport which carried her.

It was a distinct relief to reach civilization. While her new method of camouflage wasn't quite as draining as what she'd used to escape, it did have a distinct tendency to wear a person down when used over a long period of time. To be able to use the awakening town's energy as a cloak to cover her own took a weight off of her shoulders and allowed her to walk a little more easily.

Soon, the golden sun kissed the town's dusty old buildings, and then glared brightly enough to warrant the use of sunglasses. The city itself was mostly residential, with a little downtown area through which she now strode.

Hunger had already hit her hard and lingering exhaustion continued to torment her. Mentally, she went over just how much ration she had left. What she had would keep, but unless she either broke down and frequented one of the fast food joints scattered throughout the area or was able to hunt something down, she would have to dip into what she carried. The young woman did not want to do that just yet. She knew she had a long way to go.

When she glanced up at the blonde man who happened to bump her arm, she was halfway convinced that it was her physical condition playing games with her mind. He looked exactly like a jeans and sweater clad Kisuke Urahara. Internally shaking herself out of her reverie, the young escapee smiled a little at him and attempted to go on her way.

"Yo, Meg," he greeted in a heavily accented voice higher and somehow more whiney Kisuke's.

Behind the dark glasses, inhuman eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Do I know you?" Her smooth voice was level, though quiet. She was so unused to speaking these days.

He looked confused for a moment, then looked at his watch. "No." With another unbearably goofy grin, the look alike turned and beckoned her with him.

Puzzled, she paused for a moment, staring at his retreating back as he moved away from her. Oddly enough, the energy swirling around him was a lot like the "gigai" things Renji, Ukitake and others wore in Japan, but seemed to be growing dimmer. Was this a shinigami?

If it was, it was a very strange one.

Come to think of it, his life energy – reiatsu, she reminded herself – had an odd, synthetic flavor to it. He was lacking that distinct loop with an unseen weapon she had noticed with the death gods as well.

The familiar stranger led her around the corner and into a short, blind alley between two old buildings. When she drew to a stop behind him, he started digging in the shoulder bag he'd been carrying.

She tensed, mind screaming at her that he was going for a weapon of some sort, but was left blinking when he shoved a small bundle wrapped in olive green cloth and a stuffed toy lion into her hands. There was a note pinned to the toy's chest.

"Feed me!" the slip of paper read, a picture of what looked like a green marble next to the words.

What the…?

Meg held the two gifts gingerly – fully expecting one or both of them to explode at any minute. No doubt about it, Kisuke was at it again. A soft whistle drew her attention back to the man before her.

The quiet tone continued after he popped what looked like a white gumball into his mouth, and a tiny green sphere flew from his chest. Once the little ball was free, he promptly fell lifelessly to the hard ground.

"Wha – hey!" Concerned, she dropped to a knee next to the still gently whistling figure. "Are you o-" She yelped in surprise when her hand made contact with the arm and found it softening – just like a deflating balloon. With a gasp, she jerked away and scrambled back, clear into the bordering building's wall.

The man's body slowly collapsed into itself, then evaporated into nothingness.

Gasping softly, she tilted her head back and closed her eyes after staring numbly at the now empty spot. "I'm not going crazy," she muttered borderline desperately, "I'm not, I'm not, I'm not." Trying to still her trembling, she reached for the link with the archer. The shaken girl found it steady and warm. Meg drew strength there. Finally, she opened her eyes and reached for the little olive-toned marble. Upon finding it, she grabbed the doll and after a pause, put the sphere in the toy's mouth.

As soon as she did, the lion dropped from her hand, and sneakered feet carried her three rather large steps away. The young woman had no desire to be covered in pudding or Jell-O or whatever the doll was likely filled with.

Instead of blowing up, however, it simply sat up under its own power and sprang to its feet. Shaking a fuzzy forelimb at her, it hollered, "Oi! What that for?"

She stared. "You're talking," she uttered numbly.

It took a moment to stare back at her. "Yes, so? Yoruichi talks when cat." The doll brushed itself off and eyed her up and down.

"But…but she's alive." Lots of living things could talk, right? Inanimate objects only talk if they were built to do so. Most plushies weren't in that category, where they? At least, that's what she was led to believe anyway.

By now, however, Meg was getting to the point of believing almost anything.

"What does that mean?" The toy stalked up to her and pointed emphatically up at her. "I'm alive!"

"Y-yeah, b…" she tried to take a startled step back, only to find her back flush against the wall, "but you're a doll. No pulse."

He eyed her, then muttered something in Japanese and walked over to the fallen bundle. "Hungry?"

Somewhat numbly, she nodded slightly.

The irritated toy picked up the bundle with both paws and proceeded to carry it over to her. Upon stopping at her feet, he held it up over his head for her.

Obligingly, she knelt to take the offered package, then stood once he'd climbed up her arm and perched on her shoulder. She spared him a quizzical glance before unwrapping the fabric.

A small smile lit upon her face at finding the onigri so carefully wrapped within. "Heh…Tessai…Ururu…" The rice balls sat in a small pan perfect for cooking a little improvised soup or sliced meat over a camp fire. When her eyes picked up their glow, she could see traces of serene blue skating over the matte surface, "Ukitake," she whispered softly, tracing a fingertip along the lip of the vessel. The feel of the stuffed doll working its way inside her sweatshirt distracted her. Arching her brows, she grabbed him by the tail and pulled him out again. "Do you have a name?"

It grinned at her and flashed her a thumbs up. "Your hero – Kon. Here to save you!"

Again, Meg blinked, before taking a seat on the cold concrete and leaning up against the building. "Save me, huh?" She smirked a little at the doll and stretched her legs out in front of her. "Well, what should we do now, hero-Kon?"

He yanked himself from her hand and dropped onto her lap. Once there, the 'hero' snatched an onigri and leapt up to her shoulder again, shoving it for her mouth. "You eat." Kon hopped down to the pavement again once she took the food from him and crossed his fuzzy arms. "I keep watch. Then we go."

With a small laugh and a sigh, she nodded. "Yessir." At least she didn't have to worry about being lonely now. Being driven absolutely insane, however – that was an entirely different matter.

* * *

**Looks like Kisuke's been playing around with the portable gigai tech again. XD**

**Oh, Meg, you're not crazy. It's just the rest of the world that's the problem.**

**Or maybe just the author of this story - one of the two.**


	12. Chapter 12

Golden light filtered through a dingy lampshade as the storm rattled a drafty window. The soft sound of water rushing out of the faucet's portal and over a pair of powerful hands cleansing themselves in the bathroom sink filtered into the bedroom. Every once in a while, a low voice would sound from the adjoining room – muffled by the thin wooden door separating the two rentals.

The longer the unlikely group of comrades had been on the road, the fiercer the storm raged. Finally, the snow had whipped so hard, and the white had been so blinding that the Quincy and wanderer decided to pull over and checked into the next available motel - a little hole in the wall place with next to no tenants.

While the Ishidas were attempting to sanitize their room, Diana had stretched out on of the two drab, though neatly made beds, hands folded behind her head, eyes closed. Predictably, Shunsui had already mirrored her posture on the other bed.

Renji smirked and shook his head when he caught the scene upon his emergence from the bathroom. He glanced at Shunsui. Had he not known any better, he'd have sworn his superior was fast asleep. He knew better, but unlike the captain's lieutenant back in the Seireitei, he let it slide. There was something else nagging is curiosity.

Silently, he eased down to sit on the side of Di's bed, then slowly reached over to tug the ankle-hem of her jeans up a little. He wasn't entirely sure, but he thought he'd caught sight of a rather curious mark there when they had first met up.

"If you want to keep that hand," a husky, feminine voice rose, "you better not do what I think you're about to do to that foot."

"Yare, yare, Bara-chan," the lazy voice drawled before Renji could fashion a response, "So suspicious. Renji-kun wouldn't dream of tickling an unprotected foot."

That got a distinctly unladylike snort in response. Why _that_ secret had to get blown, she'd never know. Being ticklish was a distinct disadvantage when dealing with mischievous, competitive friends.

"Hey, I just wanted to get a look at your new work." The culprit held his hands up and tried for a charming grin. "I get pummeled enough as it is."

"Ah yes," Shunsui again mumbled good naturedly from his bed, "I do believe Rukia and my sweet, sweet Nanao-chan have been training together."

"Huh," Abarai reached for his friend's foot again, "I was wondering why her punches've so much harder, lately…"

Di pushed herself up and out of Renji's grip. However, she pulled her sock off, bright eyes flickering in amusement between the two shinigami as they conversed as she pulled the pant-leg over her shapely calve to reveal a stretch of smooth skin, marred only by the artwork around the slender curve between foot and leg, thick scarring extending over the bottom of her foot and a thin, nearly invisible scar slanting diagonally along the shin. "Rukia, huh? That's the girl you grew up with, right?"

Renji nodded as he tilted his head to get a look at the tattoo. "Yeah. We started talking again after Ichigo showed up." He ran a thumb over jagged black lines very much like his own which ringed her ankle and traced a petal of the delicate sakura blossoming over the bone between the terminuses of the inked band. "We made an impression, huh?"

"Sure did." She smirked at him as she again reclined, then yelped with a glare when he ran a calloused fingertip over her arch. "Hey!"

Out thrust the leg and off the bed tumbled Abarai.

Shunsui laughed heartily. "Ah, she and Rukia have a lot in common. You do like the feisty ladies, don't you, Renji?"

Groaning, the abused reaper picked himself off the floor and rubbed his ribs. "That's one way to put it. Ugh, they've got the same kick, that's for sure."

"Good to see you're getting your fair share of abuse, Pineapple-head," the woman stuck her tongue out at him childishly, before reclining again and grinning wickedly. "You two an item, then?"

His face lit up in an impressive blush. "Uh…well…it's complicated."

"Ohh?" Di pulled the prodding foot from his ribs before he could grab it again. "Do tell."

Fortunately for him, a knock sounded at the door connecting the two rooms just in time.

"We're not interrupting, I hope." Ryuuken commented dryly as he opened the door.

"Nah," Di tugged her other sock off. Can't have unevenly cold feet, now can we. "Just talking about Renji's love life." She grinned at the elder Quincy.

"_What_ love-life?" Uryu quipped, then only smirked at Renji's indignant squawk.

Ryuuken ignored it all as he spread the map on the end-table. "Diana, how long does it usually take to clear the snow from the roads around here?"

The woman hopped from the bed and strode over to the doctor's side, hands tucked into her back pockets. "Around here? No clue. If the blizzard cuts out soon, though, I imagine we'd be able to set out again come morning."

Ryuken nodded. "The sooner we move the better."

"True," Shunsui stretched, "but if we're immobile in this world, odds are that they are, too."

Di frowned and bit her lip. "What if they're not in this world, though? Can't they just track our reiatsu?"

Uryu shook his head. "Not easily, no. We're all repressing ours and yours seems to blend into the background rather well. I imagine that as far as they're concerned, you may as well not be here in the first place."

Slowly, she arched her brows and stared at the youth for a few minutes. "Funny, I don't know if I should be insulted or not."

"Yeah, Uryu's like that," Renji commented. "The kid's confusing as hell." The shinigami snickered at the glare the teenage Quincy shot him.

The red-heads exchanged amused grins before Di looked down at the map Ryuuken had spread over the table. "So, I'm assuming that since the Spoon and the Slurpee are playing now, our buddies in Hueco Mundo are pretty dead set on getting your girlfriend, Uryu." When she looked up, she found all eyes on her. "…what? Are you guys suddenly hungry now, too?"

"'The Slurpee'?" Renji inquired, tattooed brows raised.

"…what?" She glanced between the staring guys and shrugged. "The blue-haired guy reminds me more of a blueberry slurpee than a cat. It's just…the color."

Shunsui laughed as he came up behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. "Bara-chan, you have a very strange imagination."

Uryu cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should discuss a plan instead of pretending to be Yachiru." He tried his best to banish the image of a young Diana wreaking havoc with the pink-haired child-officer of the Eleventh from his mind.

"Wet blanket Quincy." Diana smirked and leaned back a little into Shunsui's hands, closing her eyes when he began kneading the knotted muscle he found there. "Oh, yeah. Right there. You're so hired, Shunsui."

Uryuu rolled his eyes. "Sticks and stones." Calmly, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his middle finger. "I propose we set up a watch until morning."

Renji nodded, all traces of the grin faded into a sober expression. "Yeah, good idea. They might not attack again tonight, but just in case, rotations of two people would be ideal."

Ryuuken crossed his arms over his chest. "Not a bad idea."

The captain among them looked down at the young woman currently melting under his velvet touch. "I vote that Diana and Ryuuken take the last watch, so our two drivers don't fall asleep behind the wheel." He smirked and caught the elbow destined for his ribs before it could impact.

That drew a rare smirk from the elder Quincy. "For once, Captain Kyoraku, we are in agreement."

"Mph." She relaxed further into his hands. "Fine, fine." Slowly, an emerald eye cracked open. "…you guys do realize that we do have an uneven number of people, don't you?"

Uryuu watched in amusement as Shunsui dipped down to slip an arm under Diana's knees, then swept her up into his arms, bridal style – ignoring her startled yelp and sudden viselike grip across the back of his shoulders.

"Then I vote Shunsui take the first two watches. I'll take the first watch with him, then Renji and I can swap." The teen crossed his arms over his chest in an unconscious mirror of his father's posture. "Someone has to be sure he behaves, after all."

"Tch," Shunsui turned to disappear into the attached room, "Now, Uryuu. If I was going to do anything ungentlemanly towards my dear friend here, I would have already."

Diana chuckled and closed her eyes again as she rested her head against his shoulder. She hadn't realized just how exhausted she really was. "Uh-huh." Her free hand curled itself on his broad chest. "Doesn't mean anything's stopping you from trying in the future."

"Only a strong sense of self-preservation, Bara-chan." He dropped a kiss to her forehead as he set her gently down on one of the beds. "I am rather attached to my limbs, you know."

Her rough chuckle drifted after him as he rejoined the others.

* * *

**Wow. _WOW_. I am _so _sorry it took so long to update this story. I hit a bit of a block in addition to some real life issues. Thanks so much for keeping up with it!**

**There will be more action and plotish stuff in the next chapter. I swear I've been working on it!**


	13. Chapter 13

Why anyone would willingly live in such a place was beyond him. Honestly, the walls were stained, the décor tacky beyond belief, and there was some strange, musty scent in the air that just couldn't be ignored. Szayel attempted to avoid breathing too much as one long forefinger poked the loud floral bed-spread as if it were about to move. From the state of the ratty carpet, he was rather sure that something was about to crawl from the filthy fibers.

He hoped the bed was in better shape.

After a mere ten minutes in this 'motel room', he missed the sterility of his lab. He took solace that at least he still had the filter of his custom gigai.

Worse yet, he had yet to encounter a single human with enough spiritual pressure or with anything particularly unique about them to pique any sort of interest. Who could enjoy such a boring, dirty, ugly place?

Even this artificial body had its drawbacks. It was impractical to color its hair in his customary rose shade, so he was forced to go with blonde – the next best option. In addition, its need for the vile stuff the humans dubbed 'food' wasn't something he ever wanted to get used to.

Lord Aizen's tasteless tea was more palatable than the 'oatmeal' the gaudy waitress had served him at the small restaurant down the dusty road that morning. No wonder these beings were such dull creatures. He was sure that when he was still amongst the living, he was far more interesting than these creatures. Yammy, however, would fit right in.

"Humph." He sat gingerly on the lumpy bed. "She had better be worth it." Smoothly, he pulled the clean white laptop out of its case and pulled up his notes.

A series of windows popped up on the screen. The latest mug shot that the primitives labs which had been her shelter and maintainers filled one corner. Her inhuman eyes stared vacantly into the camera. Telltale bruised circles underscored those eyes, and white bandaging had peeked out of the equally white top they had put her in. Her hair had been shorn off to expose a scalp crossed by a healing surgical incision. That hair had been sent off for testing and storage. Stolen text documents and graphical analysis were stored in the same folder as that picture, but he had already studied those in detail, and made his own conclusions from the research already done on her. What interested him at the moment was the map of her current known route, and what few past mission reports he was able to save from Urahara's erasure.

If his projections were correct, she should be passing through this disgusting little town any day now. It troubled him that he still couldn't sense her reiatsu, but if he was correct, she couldn't shield her appearance in quite the same way.

Luckily, Szayel had been the one assigned to this particular aspect of the mission. The other two, Grimmjow and Nnoitora would have no doubt simply attacked her all out and brought what was left to Hueco Mundo for _him_ to put back together. It was far more fitting that they serve as the distraction for the paltry rescue crew that had been sent for her.

No, the scientist believed that might had to be accompanied by intelligence. As such, he had designed smaller, albeit weak, hollows to scout every road and path into the dingy gaggle of buildings. They were built to repress what little reiatsu they carried, which made them nearly undetectable to those who could sense such things. Because of their lack of strength, they weren't to confront her. Their role was to report immediately to him as soon as she's spotted. He would take it from there.

Now, there was little to do but wait and plan her capture.

* * *

As a general rule, Kon tended to avoid riding in bags at any cost. Ordinarily, he simply rode on the shoulder of whoever he happened to be traveling with. Ideally, his companion would be a lovely young lady with a penchant for cuddles, or, even better, didn't mind carrying him up close and personal with her hills of joy. He'd been hopeful, then, when he found out that he'd be traveling with a girl of the perfect age, and an American at that. Everyone knew that American girls were outgoing, loveable creatures, after all, and this one was in desperate need of affection - far more than that fashion sadist, Uryu, could ever provide.

_I'm just not that lucky_. The mod-soul bemoaned his horrible luck.

Of course, this one just had to be defective. Meg seemed to have no interest in snuggling with her hero in plush lion skin. Even worse, as soon as they drew closer to towns, she'd open her bag and shoot him a look with those freaky eyes of hers if he tried to escape before they entered the city limits. He'd learned after the first time that if he argued with her that the cold girl simply stuff him in the bag and force him to stay there for the entirety of the day. Meg must have had eyes hidden in the back of her head, because every time he started to draw down the zipper, she'd pull it closed again and roughly hitch the bag back over her shoulders.

He heaved a heart-rending sigh and made himself comfortable in the carefully folded blanket.

Fate was cruel. So very cruel. Here was the perfect situation to lavish his warmth upon a needy heart, and once again, he was shot brutally down.

The mod soul frowned when he felt her rolling gate slow, and then stop. "Meg-chan?" He chanced pulling the zipper open and peeked out at her. Kon knew something was wrong when she didn't shove him back into his mobile prison.

"Do you feel something?" she asked softly.

Kon looked up ahead over her shoulder and extended his senses. All he saw was more dirt road and a dingy little town about a mile away. The air felt a little dryer than usual, and there was a slight, nagging undertone of threat, but that wasn't particularly unusual in many places. "No." He paused a beat and peered into her contemplative face. "Are you feeling alright? Maybe I coul-mph!"

He found himself shoved firmly back into the bag and watched the sunshine disappear as the zipper closed over his head. Denied and broken hearted again.

_Humph. The Quincy can have this one. Her endowments aren't particularly impressive, anyway._

Soon, she was walking again, and he sighed, nuzzling into the blanket again. Just as the gentle sway of her gate was lulling him back to sleep, she jolted violently to the side and the bag was ripped off her back. Glaring light hit him when he was propelled from the knapsack. When he landed, he spotted Meg just as she sprang to her feet, dusty from her fall and wide eyed with surprise, from where she had been thrown. Opposite her stood a white-clad man with pink hair, flanked by two smaller hollows.

Meg's eyes lit up just as the man gestured dismissively. The two hollows vanished, and he smiled as he casually strolled toward her. "My, my, at last we meet in the flesh. Do you have any idea of the trouble you've caused me?"

She gave no sign of even hearing him, only taking a silent step back for every one he took forward. Her fingers spread slightly at her sides as tension ran through each line of her body.

Frowning, the Espada stopped and shook his head. "Have you been taught no manners, child? It's customary to respond when a superior addresses you."

Still, no verbal response was forthcoming. Brightly glowing eyes only watched him warily.

"Tsk." He lifted a hand and pointed a single, long finger in her direction. A spark of bright purple light ignited at its tip. "You're boring me, girl." The energy shot at her, and came to a sudden stop right in front of her face. Within a moment, inky darkness blossomed within the center of the light, and exploded around her.

A low thrum deafened Kon when it swept over him, and a wave of desert sand kicked up by the shockwave blinded him.

When the dust cleared, only the Numeros was left standing. The lingering breeze ruffled his soft hair and silken clothing as he stared at the spot where Meg had been moments before. His thin lips were turned down in a dark frown, and delicate brows furrowed in contemplation. The disdainful golden gaze swept over the landscape.

Kon froze when the man's attention flickered over him. He could almost feel the cold, analytical nature of that attention, but still he remained utterly still, just like when he was in Yuzu's clutches. After a few moments, the man tapped open a garganta and slipped through.

* * *

**Took me long enough, huh? I wish I could promise a time-frame for another chapter, but between work/life obligations, original work and medical stuff...well. I'll do the best I can. So sorry!**

**Thanks so much to Wolfren89 on DA for the beta! **


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